


Grandmothers

by Elesianne



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Mild Angst, Mild Fluff, Possibly Pre-Slash, Years of the Trees, and also, if you want to read it that way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elesianne/pseuds/Elesianne
Summary: On a warm summer's day, young Maedhros and Fingon leave Tirion behind but find themselves discussing their families anyway.





	Grandmothers

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking a lot about my own grandmother who has been unwell, and about how much she means to me, and grandmothers in general. That led me to write this little fic about young Maitimo and Findekáno discussing their grandmothers.
> 
> Maitimo is (in human terms) in his mid-teens here, while Findekáno in his late tweens and precocious. There are very gentle hints of pre-slash here if you are inclined to see them, but they shouldn't be too oppressive if you're not.
> 
> This can also be read on [my Tumblr](http://elesianne.tumblr.com/post/172039544676/f%C3%ABanorian-week-maedhros) where I posted it for the Fëanorian week event.

It is one of the rare days that both of them have managed to persuade their fathers that firstly, they do not have any important lessons or other duties to attend to, and secondly, they are old enough and responsible enough to ride out of the city on their own. So Maitimo and Findekáno do ride out though the morning is hot enough to be uncomfortable. They wear light clothes and joyful expressions and head for one of their favourite spots, a little river-valley close enough to the sea that if the wind is right, they can smell the salt in the air.

Today the wind is right, and as soon as they can smell the sea, Findekáno jokingly suggests that they ride all the way there. 'For it is guaranteed to be cooler there', he reasons.

'I think that would be a rebellion too far', Maitimo says wryly and leads his horse to the stream to drink. Findekáno follows, guiding his own horse proudly, basking in the responsibility.

For years, Fëanáro used the excuse that Findekáno was too young to be included in whatever activity Maitimo was planning. Maitimo wonders what new excuse his father will soon come up with now that Nerdanel has vetoed the old one. Maitimo doesn't doubt it will be better one, and he doesn't doubt that he himself will fight it politely but tenaciously, like he did the old excuse.

Setting his horse free to graze in the sparse grass, Maitimo banishes the thoughts of his father and how badly he gets along with his half-brother, turning his attention back to Finno. Finno who is so easy for Maitimo to get along with, never mind their difference in age and their quarrelling fathers, and at the moment taking out an enormous amount of various sweets and sweet pastries from his pack.

Maitimo raises his brows and asks, 'How long do you think we can stay here eating?'

'Until they are all eaten. We can't hurt grandmother Indis' feelings by bringing back any.' Findekáno grins.

Maitimo snorts. 'You always have an excuse for eating, don't you?'

'I don't know what you're talking about', says Findekáno, indistinctly for his mouth is already full of pastry.

An hour or two later he lounges on the riverbank next to Maitimo, looking faintly ill.

'I told you to stop eating the sweets earlier', Maitimo scolds. Their age difference means that Maitimo has accrued some wisdom that Findekáno hasn't, such as knowing when to stop indulging himself.

(What he hasn't learned yet is not being smug about it.)

'I told you, it would be insulting to grandmama Indis if I came back with any of them left', Findekáno says, holding his stomach.

Maitimo plucks up crumbs from his lap and flicks them at his cousin. 'You need to work on your argumentation skills, Finno.'

'She would be insulted.' Findekáno's repeated argument is hardly spoken seriously, and his face is relaxed and content as he stares up into the cloudless sky.

'It would be easy enough to hide any leftovers.' Maitimo enjoys the inconsequential, often nonsensical arguments he and Findekáno have.

Findekáno clearly agrees on the unimportance of their debate, for he concedes easily. 'It would be', he admits. 'But grandmama really would be disappointed if she found out somehow. Nothing pleases her more than feeding her grandchildren.'

Maitimo mumbles his agreement, then sits up straight and enunciates more clearly as his father taught him. 'My grandmother is the same, in principle at least. She specialises in ridiculously large portions for 'growing boys', as she says, rather than sweets.'

Maitimo is very fond of his only grandmother. Tyelpefindien keeps an iron grip on the many apprentices of her husband's that live in their house and on all affairs of the household, but her stern, angular face softens whenever she talks to her grandchildren. They are always welcome to stay.

'I think I prefer the sweets', says Finno. His ever brighter smile reminds Maitimo of Indis.

Maitimo's returning smile is a little wistful and aimed at the river that seems to flow slower than usual on this still, bright summer's day, as if even the water itself is caught up in the too-hot day's laziness.

There is a long silence as Findekáno dozes after his heavy meal and Maitimo thinks of grandmothers. Usually their silences are as light and comfortable as their little debates, but this time Maitimo's heart is a little heavy.

Findekáno notices it eventually and asks, direct as ever. 'What it is that is weighing on you?'

'It is not a heavy thing, exactly', Maitimo says, because he isn't always as direct. 'I was – since we were talking of grandmothers… Sometimes I wonder what kind of a grandmother my father's mother would have been. If she would have stuffed me with sweets like yours does, or with too much soup, or if she would have been reasonable with food. Is that even possible for a grandmother?'

'It must be, for only one of my grandmothers does this', points out Findekáno and holds his protesting stomach. 'Grandmother Aistallë would have rapped me on the fingers with her fan rather than let me eat that eleventh torte.'

Maitimo doesn't know much of Findekáno's mother's mother, only what she looks like, and that Findekáno inherited his stubborn chin from her. From what Findekáno has told him, Aistallë sounds like formidable lady.

'She taught you to ride, didn't she?'

'Yes, she did. And she bought me my first pony, that grey-dappled rascal that liked to bite me when I didn't give him treats. I'm glad Turukáno has him now.' Findekáno sits up, still holding this stomach, and twists around enough to check that their own horses are still grazing under the copse of trees a short distance away. Findekáno's steed these days is a handsome black stallion, very different from his first, mischievous pony, but exactly as beloved.

'I've been keeping an eye on them', Maitimo points out as Findekáno lies back down. 'No need to worry.'

'I should have known.' Findekáno smiles up at Maitimo in a small way, the smile more in his eyes than on his lips. His eyes are blue like Finwë's, bluer than Maitimo's own, and fringed by long, long black lashes. 'That I don't need to worry about anything when I'm with you.'

Maitimo occupies his hands with tugging out blades of dry grass. 'I'm so used to looking after my brothers that I suppose I do it with you too.'

'Mm', Findekáno agrees. 'Only you are gentler with me. Less impatient.'

'You are not as irritating.'

'It's only because I don't live in the same house with you.' Findekáno chuckles. 'Let us agree to never live in the same house, so we'll stay good friends.'

'Neighbouring houses, perhaps?' Maitimo suggests lightly.

'That's a good idea!' Then Findekáno grows more solemn. 'Nelyo, we have deviated from our original after-lunch discussion of grandmothers. Would you like to speak of them more? You said that you sometimes wonder what Míriel would have been like as a grandmother.'

Maitimo shrugs again, trusting that Findekáno will know not to interpret it as real indifference.

After a moment, he finds words. 'It feels odd to think about her. I have heard many things about her but they are about her looks and her accomplishments. I can't use those things to build a picture of what she would have been like with me and my brothers in everyday moments. With little things like mealtimes or sending off for a ride with advice.'

Findekáno's eyes are on Maitimo but he is quiet and intently listening. Maitimo appreciates it, that Findekáno strives to understand and empathise, even though as Maitimo's half-cousin, he wouldn't exist as he is if Maitimo's father's mother was alive. It isn't necessarily easy for Findekáno, Maitimo can tell, but he does it anyway.

'I think she would have taught us some of her craft', Maitimo continues after a moment. 'Since all of our other grandparents have taught us at least a little bit of their craft or occupation. But I don't know if she would have enjoyed teaching children who might not have any special skill or interest in her beloved craft that she was unsurpassed in. I heard once that she often grew impatient with her less talented apprentices.'

'Grandchildren are special to their grandparents', Findekáno says sagely. 'I'm certain that she would have loved even your most mangled attempts.'

Maitimo considers for a moment defending his short-lived studying of needlecraft that he'd stopped pursuing out of lack of passion rather than any particular ineptitude, but gives up on it because he believes Findekáno was only trying to make him cheer up rather than insult him. He is too loyal for that, so ardently loyal that sometimes it is a little disquieting and at others seems childish, but mostly Maitimo appreciates it.

'I think she was a different sort of queen at least', he says at length.

Findekáno nods in agreement. 'From what I have heard, she was a craftswoman to her core and had little interest in being a politician.' He picks at his clothes. 'Grandmother Indis was a princess from a young age. She grew into ordering people around so it comes as naturally to her as running and singing.'

'And she has been teaching you all three.'

'And I can't decide which one I like best.'

That does make Maitimo smile, and the new silence they slip into is comfortable and warm like the riverbank they're sitting on. Findekáno shakes out the tangled mess his braid descended into during their ride here, combs through it with his fingers, and begins to braid it anew into several plaits. Maitimo stares at the river still, at the moving water and the mother bird there teaching her numerous young to dive for food.

Findekáno breaks the quiet eventually by offering, 'I could ask grandmama Indis. She knew Míriel and I think she would tell you about her.' What he leaves unsaid because they both know it is _I would do this since our grandfather never speaks of his first spouse, or, because your father never speaks of her but fiercely, and as you say, from those things is difficult to form an idea of how grandmother would be with a beloved grandson._

Maitimo considers it. He knows that Findekáno would ask, wouldn't think of it twice, and wouldn't mind it being potentially awkward or embarrassing.

'And, you know, I don't think grandmama Indis dislikes you or your brothers.' Findekáno's restless fingers unravel the messy braids he'd just finished. 'So you could come with me some time when I visit her. I wouldn't mind sharing her with you.'

'My father would mind', Maitimo replies, wondering if Findekáno doesn't yet realise the realities of their complex family or if he only chooses to disregard them. At Findekáno's little frown he adds, 'Don't worry about it, Finno.' And because generosity should have its reward, Maitimo takes the ribbons from Findekáno's hand and offers, 'I can do the braiding for you.'

Findekáno shuffles closer at once, shaking his hair out again. Maitimo runs his fingers through it and sets to work braiding it neatly.

'I don't think you should wear more than one braid until you can manage it neatly yourself', he teases gently. 'I didn't.'

'That's unfair, Maitimo! Your hair is more biddable than mine. And pretty no matter what you do with it. Anyway', he turns his head and grins, until Maitimo tugs at a strand of hair to make him look forward again and stay still, 'what is the point of being the king's grandson if one can't rely on servants to help with one's hair?'

Maitimo isn't in the mood for disagreeing so he says lightly, 'What indeed', and ties another braid, and another, thankful that they have enough in common to be able to talk of the things they don't.

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon that Nerdanel's mother, Maitimo's only living grandmother, has silver hair because I have a feeling that for several of the sons of Fëanor to have other than dark hair, they needed to inherit a light-haired gene from several grandparents. Thus the name Tyelpefindien, _silver-haired_. To Findekáno's maternal grandmother I chose the name Aistallë, _one who blesses_ , without any particular deep thought. Perhaps she has something to do with service of the Valar.


End file.
